Sometimes I meet people who say they don’t “live to eat” they “eat to live”
Sometimes I envy these people. Because then maybe I wouldn’t think about food in the same infatuated, wish-I-could-breathe-you, way I thought about Daniel when we first fell in love.
Sometimes I’m out with people who simply forget to eat, who find themselves halfway into the day without a shrug at breakfast, without even speaking to lunch.
Sometimes I envy these people. Because then maybe I’d find myself so immersed in life and living that maybe I wouldn’t look forward to food in the same way I look forward to Easter, when Cadbury and Peeps and Russell Stover come over.
Sometimes I find myself so consumed with conversation as I’m eating with Daniel, a friend, my mum, that I look down, an empty plate replacing what was once full, and realize I don’t remember having eaten.
Sometimes I miss that food and wish I could treat her better the second time around. Because then maybe I’d enjoy her slowly and she, well, she’d enjoy me too.
Sometimes I eat blueberry crumb bars and can’t contain one smile from bleeding into another and another and another. I can’t seem to find one other thought in my head that ever set me so on fire.
And then, those times, I realize that eating can be loved. And loved too much. And loved too little. But loved nonetheless.
And sometimes that’s all I really need in my life.
And I smile again.
Blueberry Crumb Bar recipe from Smitten Kitchen